Just This Once
by wetrustno1
Summary: In which the boys are sick & someone takes care of them (for once). Sick!Sam and Sick!Dean with plenty of fluffiness to please everyone.


Hello everyone- yet again, I have resurfaced (turns out Senior year and college apps are a lot more time-consuming than previously thought...) Finally got hooked on SPN over the summer, and figured it was about time to torture my new set of boys with some vague but traumatic illness. Lucky for them, there is plenty of fluffy TLC to make the suffering worth while. This story is based on another story on sneezefetishforum called "this is the way our bodies break", beautiful little drabble that you should all read. Yes, it does contain the dreaded female OC (yeah, yeah, I know) but I really enjoyed the subtle way the original author chose to portray her, and she's relatively neutral, (and anonymous!) so you can just insert yourself into said story and indulge your Winchester dreams. Yeah okay I'll shut up now. Thanks for reading- please review!

They've been sitting on the bed for quite some time now, both staring at the TV without really seeing it, her fingers stroking soft circles down Sam's back as he breathes heavily through his mouth. Both he and Dean have seen sick for a few days now, both reduced to hacking, spluttering messes and both trying fruitlessly to pass it off on the weather, dust, or (in one very feeble attempt of Dean's), cats.

However, it had all come to a head today when she had awoken to the sound of Sam's retching, and stumbled into the bathroom to find the younger Winchester shivering on the bathroom floor, face flushed and eyes fever-bright. Dean hadn't been far behind, and by late morning she had taken up a permanent residence in Sam's bed, Dean nestled on one side and Sam on the other. It had been nice for a few hours, the three of them dozing lazily, Sam's head warm and heavy in her lap and Dean's warm cheek pressed into her shoulder blade. However, as the hours passed, Dean seemed to become more and more fidgety, switching sides every few minutes and slapping away her attempts at humor with ill-natured contempt. Sam fell asleep sometime after the second round of Nyquil, soft snoring filling the room. This seemed to only agitate Dean further, and finally he had stormed out, locking himself in the bathroom, some vague explanation of wanting a shower trailing behind him as he slammed the door.

She peeks down at Sam's sleeping form, smiling as she takes in the gigantic man sprawled across her lap. She ventures a soft kiss onto his forehead, melting when he sighs, very quietly, a happy little hum of contentment into her thigh. It's remarkable how many years illness has taken off of Sam, how much softer and younger he looks, unmarred by the pain and heartbreak thrust onto him from adolescence. His nose is pink and chapped, cheeks a little sallow beneath the tan, but still he looks more at peace than she's seen him in a long time. Not happy, per say, but at ease. For once unburdened by the weight of the world, and free to spend this one day curled up in bed, safe and taken care of, instead of the other way round. She figures she ought to check on Dean and shifts as though to get up. Sam's fingers tighten on the blankets around her knees, mumbles something that sounds like "stay".

"I'm just going to check on Dean." She whispers, squeezing his hand. "Be right back."

She slides out of bed with practiced skill, tucking the blankets more tightly around Sam's shivering form and padding gently over to the bathroom door. She doesn't bother knocking, but slides open the little door and slips inside, shutting it behind her so as not to bother Sam.

She is met by a very grumpy Dean, curled up in a ball in the corner of the room.

"What'r you doing n' here?" Dean's voice is a good octave lower than normal, and he sounds like he's been gargling glass.

"What are you doing in here?" She quips back, taking in the bundled heap sitting on the floor. Watery green eyes glare back at her, promptly closing again as Dean sneezes twice into his hoodie and curses. "What happened to that shower?"

He shrugs. "Too much work. Jus' wanna sleep." He wipes his dripping nose on the sleeve of the hoodie, sniffling loudly. She sits down next to him, back against the wall, keen eyes soaking him in.

"Have you taken any more tylenol?"

He shakes his head. "Doh."

"You should."

Another shake.

"It'll make you feel better."

"Ids dot helbind ad dall." Through the congestion he sounds exhausted. She knows neither of them have slept much in the past few days, but Dean really hasn't caught more than an hour since the sinus pain started kicking in last night. He sniffs again and winces, and she takes this as a sign that he feels a lot worse than is letting on.

"How's the nose?"

He moans, buries his face into her shoulder. She can feel him shivering, and frowns when she hears a bit of sniffling from under the snuffly breathing.

"Aw, babe..."

She squeezes his arm, traces circles around his back.

"I hade dis."

"I know." She pauses. "Come back to bed, you'll feel better if-"

"DOH."

"Dean, come on, don't be stupid-"

"Cand sleep adyway. Wond help." He snaps. They are both silent for a minute, until Dean's anger seems to relent a little and he glances up at her, puppy-dog eyes remorseful.

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

"Feel like shid."

"I know." She gives a little almost smile, and Dean gives another congested snort, sounding utterly miserable as he hacks for a few seconds before flopping bonelessly back onto her shoulder, moaning.

"You aren't going to feel better laying around on the floor, you know."

Another shrug. "Id's warmb."

She looks at him, incredulous. "In here?"

He nods, shakily. "Ride over the heading vendt."

She can't help but chuckle a little at this, but her laughter is promptly stopped by another wave of bone-rattling coughs. Dean convulses with each one, clutching his ribs as they tear through him, breath coming in wheezy little gasps until he is practically panting.

"Whoa there..." She squeezes his hand firmly as the hacking slowly dies down, finally leaving Dean clammy and exhausted, slumped over her legs.

"That cough sounds pretty bad."

"Yeah."

"Hurt much?"

"Dot too bad."

She takes this to mean "pretty fucking bad", and decides on a new plan of action.

"You should take a shower."

Dean moans.

"Feel good on your chest."

He fidgets. "Too tired..."

"Hey, you said yourself you can't sleep like this. The steam will help loosen up all that shit in your lungs so you can sleep."

A mumble.

"Fine, well, _I'm_ going to take a shower then."

She soots up, makes her way to standing and flips on the hot water in the shower. Instantly steam begins to fill the small room, and Dean perks up slightly.

"You really goind to get ind?"

She cocks an eyebrow and shimmies off her jeans and tee, giving him a slight grin before stepping under the hot spray. The water feel nice, and instantly begins to iron out the knots in her shoulders and back from sitting in bed with the boys all day. She tips back her head, lets the water rush over her face and hair, dark strands flattering against her skull to the steady pound of water on her back. Distantly, she can hear the sound of a zipper and the shuffle of fabric, and after a moment the glass door is pulled open to reveal a very naked Dean.

"Boove ober."

She makes what little space she can in the little shower, pulls the door closed behind him. Already he's shivering, and so pushes him under the spray, wrapping her around around behind him and planting a kiss onto the smooth, damp skin of a bicep. She lets her hands wander, fingers tracing across the muscular plane of chest and torso, up to his neck and shoulders. Dean lets out a little moan of approval, which she takes to mean her plan so far is working. The two of them stand under the steamy water, enjoying the sensation of the pressure pounding against tired skin, as she gently soaps up Dean's shoulders and torso, washing away any lingering traces of illness, taking a quiet pleasure in feeling him loosen up ender her hands, until finally he is practically wilting at her touch, and she flips off the water.

"Here." She hands him a fluffy towel from the rack, grabbing another one for herself. The bathroom is warm and steamy, and together they begin to dry off. She blow dries his hair until it is just the slightest bit damp, and kisses his neck with a sort of reverence before slipping back into the bedroom for clothes. A moment later she had returned, and they dress, before stumbling back to Sam's bed and slipping beneath the sheets. It's the same as earlier (Sam on her left, Dean on her right,) only this time both boys are still and silent, comfortably cuddled against her chest, and she can't help but smile when Dean's grip on her hand relaxes, breath evening out as sleep takes over. She begins to hum, quietly, an old tune her mum used to sing when she was a little girl, fingers carding through two heads of hair as she sings into the peaceful darkness of the room, until she too begins to feel her eyelids sag. As sleep pulls her under she gives each boy a squeeze, a silent promise that she will be here tomorrow when they wake up, because tonight, she's not going anywhere.


End file.
